


meo periculo

by vlieger



Category: West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlieger/pseuds/vlieger





	meo periculo

**i.**

After New Hampshire wasn't the first time. It was the first that really counted, if that made any difference. It was euphoric and half-drunk with promise. By the time they made it somewhere quiet Sam was just as soaked-through as Josh, his shirt clinging to his skin beneath his sodden jacket, his tie catching rivulets of rain as they trickled down his neck. 

He said, "Wow, _wow_ ," and Josh was _still_ smiling, said, "I can't believe you did that, I can't believe we did that, holy shit, we are going to kick some Washington _ass_."

Sam didn't say anything else. He couldn't really through the smile stretching his face. 

Josh said, "Wait 'til you meet the rest of the guys, we've got Leo McGarry, you know him, right? He's good. He's _really_ good. And Toby Ziegler, he's kind of scary but brilliant and he's going to love you although he'll never actually say it, and Toby's getting us CJ Cregg for press, she doesn't have a lot of experience but she's going to be great, I can tell, and-- "

"Josh," said Sam. "Who's the candidate?"

Josh's smile turned simultaneously manic and dreamy. "Sam," he said, stepping closer. "His name is Josiah Bartlet. Jed Bartlet. Governor of New Hampshire. He's-- he's-- "

"The real deal," said Sam. 

"Yeah," said Josh. He breathed out. 

There was a silence. Outside the rain fell heavily. It sounded a lot like the rushing in Josh's head. 

"We're going to do this," said Sam eventually. Quietly. Reverently. 

"Yeah," said Josh again, just as quiet. 

He kissed Sam then. He couldn't not. Sam was bright-eyed and brilliant and beautiful, just like this whole thing was going to be, and didn't hesitate a heartbeat. He curled his hands up over Josh's jaw, shoulders high and mouth clumsy. It was all teeth and tongue and no finesse, _perfect_. Josh's hands slipped over the wet cotton at his hips. 

Everywhere was cold rainwater and hot skin. Josh felt like there should be steam curling off of them like it did after a shower. 

There may have been, actually, but Sam had water clinging to his lashes and Josh couldn't decide where to leave his hands, so it went entirely unnoticed. 

In the end he dropped to his knees and palmed up under Sam's shirt, over the flat hot line of his stomach. Sam tipped his head back and made some kind of inarticulate sound at the ceiling. His fingers were tangled in Josh's wet curls. Josh said, "God, Sam," and laughed half-hysterically against his belly. Sam shivered and arched into him. 

Josh said, "This is-- this is kind of crazy, right?" mostly to himself, and then swallowed Sam whole because he didn't want to think about it just yet. 

He wanted to feel it, crazy and happy and stupid for just a little before things got serious. Got real. 

Sam said, "Yeah," strangled. 

Josh hadn't sucked cock in a very long time. It wasn't something he could afford to play around with, but Sam was Sam, and this was different, _now_ was different. Sam moved like rolling waves under his hands, smooth sharp hipbones and beating skin rising and falling with his breath, pushing against Josh's palms. 

His hands were in Josh's hair, not grabbing but pressed flat, thumbs stroking restlessly over his temples like the impatient fizzing blood in Josh's veins. 

He came with a quiet, wrecked sound, and Josh swallowed, pressing his forehead to Sam's thigh when he pulled off. 

"I," said Sam. "I, uh, I think I need to sit down."

Josh laughed and shifted back so Sam could slide down the wall. 

"Hey," said Sam. One corner of his mouth twitched in a sated smile. His eyelids were heavy. 

"Hey," said Josh. "I hope-- shit, I hope that was, uh-- okay."

Sam sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I. Yeah."

"Yeah?" said Josh, raising his eyebrows. 

"It's fine," said Sam. He pushed forward over Josh.

Josh leaned back on his elbows. "You don't have to-- "

Sam kissed him, then moved down to bite his neck. 

"Okay," said Josh weakly to the ceiling.

*

Sam whispered, "Thank you. Seriously Josh. Thank you," into Josh's shoulder when they hugged after the election was confirmed. After the election was _won_. 

Josh said without thinking, "I wanna fuck you." 

Sam pulled back, eyebrows raised. 

"Uh," said Josh. "I'm seriously not trying to take advantage. I was gonna ask before you said that."

"Really?" said Sam. "I don't actually hear you asking."

Josh grinned and leaned in to hug him again. "Sam, we just got the next President of the United States elected," he said. "I don't think I need to ask."

Sam said, "Josh, we just got the next President of the United States elected."

"I know," said Josh. "I _know_." His arms tightened to almost a stranglehold around Sam's neck and he whooped piercingly loud into the skin beneath Sam's ear. 

" _Ow_ , God, okay-- okay." Sam tried to wrestle him off, grinning. 

"Okay?" said Josh, letting go abruptly and raising his eyebrows. 

Sam rolled his eyes. "Let's go get drunk with the rest of the guys, come on."

"Sam-- "

"What, you think we should disappear five minutes after the Governor was elected President of the United States?"

"No," said Josh. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "No, okay, yeah. Let's go."

Sam slung an arm over his shoulder as they pushed their way back into the fray. "Ask again later," he said, eyeing the side of Josh's face. 

Josh's dimples appeared. "Sure thing, Mr. Magic Eight-Ball."

*

They marked their milestones with sex. It wasn't unusual and it made sense; their lives didn't give them time for relationships and if they did, this wouldn't-- couldn't-- be it. 

What's more, it was understood. Sure, sometimes Josh found himself smiling at Sam, at Sam's brilliance and ridiculousness, the way he'd tear down an opponent on Capitol Beat and then trip over the cables coming off set, found himself fighting off a distant ache deep in his gut, but if he'd learned one thing in the White House and the road to it, it was that you couldn't dwell on the impossible. 

He probably accepted it a little easier than Sam. Sam was unpredictable when it came to this; sometimes Josh tugged at his elbow and Sam jerked away, said wearily, "Not now, Josh," and other times he'd turn into Josh and kiss him hard and messy and wet. 

This wasn't to say it was easy for Josh, but if he was going to be a hypocrite at least he'd be a hypocrite on the right side. As it were. 

 

**ii.**

Sam looked up from his desk, startled, when Josh marched into his office and slammed the door.

"Hey. Did you need something?" he asked, pulling off his glasses and watching Josh palm over his face, fuming. 

"A callgirl?" said Josh. 

Sam sighed. "Josh, I already talked to Leo-- "

"A _callgirl?_ " said Josh, raising his voice. 

"I didn't know she was a callgirl, and-- "

"-- Seriously, of all the girls in all the bars in this entire goddamn city, did you really have to go for the-- "

"-- She's paying her way through law school-- "

"-- Do you think that matters to the press, they don't care about anything other than the fact that she's-- "

"--Are you really going to do this he-- "

"-- A _callgirl_ and you're a senior aide to the President of the United-- "

"-- Okay, I guess you-- "

"-- _Sam_ ," said Josh, stopping abruptly. 

Sam closed his eyes, slouching back in his chair. 

"I spoke to Leo, Josh, it's going to be fine," he said. 

Josh was silent for a very long time. "Yeah," he said at last. "Yeah, okay."

Donna poked her head around the door. "Josh, you have the-- is everything okay?"

"Yeah," said Josh again. "Two minutes."

"Josh, you know he doesn't like-- "

" _Two minutes_ , Donna."

"Okay, fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." She closed the door. 

"Is that what this is really about?" said Sam, watching the door thoughtfully. 

"What, my meeting with Congressman Dawkins?"

Sam shot him a look and said nothing. 

"Of course that's what this is about, Sam. You slept with a _callgirl_ and told her you worked for the President. What else would it be about?"

"Yeah. Okay." Sam shook his head. "You're right."

"Sam-- "

"You have a meeting. You should go."

"Sam-- "

"I'm not going to apologise. It was completely innocent and completely legal and there's no one I-- I'm not going to apologise."

"I don't want you to apologise, Sam. I just want to know if you _get_ what a stupid risk it is."

"Right," said Sam. "Yeah. You're right. There's nothing constituents hate more than hypocrisy."

"Oh, for-- "

"Josh." Donna stuck her head around the door again. "Your meeting? Contrary to popular belief around here I think Congressmen do actually have things to be doing, and-- "

"I said two minutes, Donna, has it been two minutes?"

"It's been two and a half actually, Josh," said Donna sweetly. 

Josh ground his teeth, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay, I'm coming."

Donna made an apologetic face at Sam and left. 

"You know this-- " Josh waved a hand between them. "Isn't an issue because it _can't_ be an issue, right?"

"Yeah, you've made that abundantly clear," said Sam. 

"Sam-- "

"Josh, I _know_ ," said Sam. "I'd think this would actually be good publicity for you."

"Personally?" said Josh. "Yeah. Politically, right now? No."

"Josh." Donna opened the door again. 

"I'm coming!" shouted Josh, and whirled to follow her through it. 

*

In the end it was okay. Sam said, "Sometimes I just want-- something easy. Something this job can't take away from me."

Josh said, "Yeah, maybe a callgirl wasn't your most viable option there."

"Josh, I didn't know she was a callgirl, I-- "

"I _know_ , for the love of God," said Josh. He breathed out, shook his head. "I get it, Sam."

"Yeah?" said Sam.

"Yeah," said Josh. 

 

**iii.**

"It feels kind of like election night," said Sam on their way out of the building. "All that promise."

"Are you hitting on me?" said Josh, grinning up at the sky. Sam was right. Today had been a shitty day. It'd been a shitty month, actually, but for the first time in a while he remembered why he did and was happy to serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States. 

Sam ducked his head, smiling. "No, actually," he said. 

"I sense a 'but' in that sentence," said Josh. "You wanna come back to my place?"

Sam bit down on his lip, glancing along the street. 

"You know." Josh flexed his fingers around the strap of his backpack. "Since your apartment is being fumigated and all."

Sam huffed a laugh. "Sure," he said.

"Yeah," said Josh. He jogged ahead to walk backwards facing Sam and whooped, stretching his arms wide. "We serve at the pleasure of the President," he shouted, grinning. 

That was the best thing about this job. The way every now and then you broke through the fog of politics and felt like you could take on the world.

Sam grinned at him, soft and a little amazed, just like that day in New York. "Yeah," he said. 

 

**iv.**

"Hey," was the first thing Sam said to Josh in his hospital room. Not particularly innovative, but. He looked kind of terrified.

"Hey," said Josh. 

Sam's hands twitched by his sides. He glanced towards the shuttered windows. 

"I think you could probably get away with touching me," said Josh. "Even the President's gone all maternal on me. I know I look pretty hot right now."

"You look pretty alive right now," said Sam quietly. 

Josh said, "Yeah."

Sam reached out to curl a hand tight over his wrist. 

"You should sit down," said Josh. 

"Yeah," said Sam. He sat. 

"Have you slept?" said Josh, swallowing. His throat was almost unbearably dry. 

"Would you-- of course I haven't slept, you were-- "

"Okay," said Josh. 

"Sorry," said Sam. "I just. Yeah."

"I know," said Josh. He twisted his wrist in Sam's grip, glancing towards the windows. It was close to midnight; all he could see through the gaps was the white wall opposite his room. 

Sam moved his hand to meet Josh's, palm to palm. 

"Sam," said Josh. He closed his eyes. "We still can't."

Sam bit down on his lip, not nervous but frustrated. "I know," he said at last. "I'm just going to say for the record that I want to. And I think it's stupid. I'd change it if I could. And I think you're stupid. Not the least because you got shot. But I know."

Josh half-smiled. "You'll make a great President someday," he said. His voice was still hoarse, groggy from the medication. 

"You'll make a terrible First Lady," said Sam. 

Josh coughed a laugh. "Sam," he said. 

"I know," said Sam. He sighed. "Just. Try not to get shot again."

"Yeah, sure thing," said Josh.

*

"Donna?" called Josh when the door to his apartment clicked open.

"I gave Donna the night off," said Sam, stepping into the living room. He had a plastic bag in one hand and his work bag on his other shoulder. "I hope I wasn't overstepping my authority."

"Yeah, that's not really up to me," said Josh. "Hey."

"I figured," said Sam. "Hey."

"Was Donna okay?" said Josh. 

Sam set the plastic bag on the coffee table and threw his own onto the floor beside it. "She threatened me with bodily harm and made me memorise her checklist. So yeah, fine."

"She has a checklist?"

"Do you want to hear it?" said Sam. "I know it by heart."

"You know, I think I'm okay," said Josh. 

"Great," said Sam. "I brought takeout. Is that okay?"

"I got shot, not the plague," said Josh. 

Sam shrugged, pulling boxes of Chinese from the plastic bag. "It's not on the checklist."

"Right," said Josh. He pushed himself further up on the couch, breathing out.

"You okay?" said Sam, handing him a carton. 

"I'm fine," said Josh. 

"You got shot, not the plague," said Sam, sitting down in the space between Josh's feet and the end of the couch. 

"I hear the plague was actually pretty bad," said Josh, raising his eyebrows. 

"In the days before antibiotics, yeah," said Sam. "Now all you need is a round of penicillin."

"...I'm fine," said Josh again. 

"Okay," said Sam. He switched on the TV, throwing the remote onto the coffee table. "The game's starting now, right?"

"Yeah," said Josh. 

"Cool," said Sam. He cradled his takeout between his knees and tugged at the knot of his tie, sliding it off over his head. 

"How was work?" said Josh, and then grimaced at how ridiculous it sounded. 

"Weren't you on conference calls to the office all day?" said Sam. 

"Leo hung up on me around lunchtime," said Josh. "Apparently it's another week before I'm allowed a full day of lying on my couch talking to the ceiling."

"You yelled at CJ," said Sam matter-of-factly. 

"Physicists!" said Josh loudly. "Not psychics, does she want us to look like lunatics?"

"Any more than we usually do?" said Sam, quirking a smile. He glanced at Josh sidelong. "Also, you'd make a terrible courtroom witness." 

"We've been over that." Josh rolled his eyes, letting out a long breath. "I'm Deputy Chief of Staff, I'm not supposed to be on vacation."

"Yeah, well." Sam tucked a forkful of food into his mouth, chewed, swallowed. "You weren't supposed to get shot either."

"Yeah," said Josh. 

"Hey." Sam set his food down on the coffee table and crawled somewhat clumsily over Josh's legs, hovering on all fours and ducking down to kiss him. 

"Are you trying to make me feel better?" said Josh, pushing into Sam's mouth, "'Cause I'm fine."

"I know," said Sam. 

"Okay," said Josh, tucking his fingers under the loose collar of Sam's shirt. 

There was no sex. Sam tasted like Kung Pao chicken and he wouldn't lean any closer; Josh's neck ached from straining upwards. After a while, when all he could taste was Sam and his lips were buzzing from overuse, Sam slumped back onto his side of the couch, hair rumpled, mouth bruised. Josh put his feet in Sam's lap and turned back to the game. 

"Don't tell Donna," said Sam. "She'll kill me."

"Right," said Josh, rolling his eyes. 

 

**v.**

"Josh, I don't think-- oh, oh, okay, we're doing this."

"Yeah, we're doing this, Sam," said Josh, pushing Sam further back onto his desk. "We're inside the most secure building in the world, it's past midnight, everyone's gone, and the President's in the Residence. Also, the Republicans just declared war on us. So yeah, we're doing this."

"Right, yeah," said Sam. "I was just going to say, the heating's still not great in here and we both own apartments within pretty manageable distance, and-- "

"When I recited my list, that wasn't an invitation for you to come up with your own," said Josh. "And for the record, mine was more convincing anyway."

"I am a professional speechwriter, so if you'd just stop interrupting I'm sure I could-- "

"Kill the mood entirely?" said Josh, working at Sam's shirt buttons. 

"I was going to say come up with something adequately convincing, but okay," said Sam. 

"Yeah, unfortunately your proficiency with words isn't nearly as convincing as other things," said Josh, pushing Sam's shirt open. "And I'm sorry to say the other things are kind of killing your argument right now."

"Did you just tell me I have a rocking body?" said Sam. 

"Uh, no," said Josh. "And 'rocking body'? Seriously?"

"It's all about the subtext," said Sam. "And as a professional speechwriter-- "

"I think you're under the illusion that what you do is some kind of a turn-on for me," said Josh. 

"Impression, Josh," said Sam, enunciating clearly and doing a rather terrible job of holding back a smirk. "I think you mean 'impression,' and yes, it's an absolutely correct one."

"Right," said Josh. He tugged Sam's tie over his head, rumpling his hair in the process, and pushed his shirt off over his shoulders. "It's time for some quiet, unless you want the Secret Service crashing in here." He knocked a folder off the desk as he swept Sam's shirt out of the way. A sheaf of papers fluttered out across the floor. 

"That's Toby's draft of the education reform section in the State of the Union speech," said Sam, a little breathlessly. Josh's hand was splayed low on his stomach. 

"Right, thanks for telling me, should I leave you here half naked on your own desk while I pick it up?"

"Actually I was going to say thank you. I wasn't exactly savouring the thought of doing this on the draft of Toby's education reform section in the State of the Union speech. It'd feel kind of wrong. Like he was watching us. He'd probably start getting suspicious tomorrow when we go over the draft with the President."

Josh stilled, blinking. "That-- may be an irreparably damaging image," he said. "In so many ways."

"I told you I'm good at it," said Sam.

"Yeah, and so far it's not getting me hot, I can tell you that much," said Josh.

"I guess I could use my powers for good," said Sam. He paused, tilting his head. "In a manner of speaking."

"Are you proposing dirty talk?" said Josh, laughing. 

"Are you vetoing my proposal of dirty talk?"

"No," said Josh. "I'm-- taking it under advisement."

"You may want to consider fast tracking," said Sam. "At least give us enough time to clean up and get out of here before Donna comes looking for you."

"If that was your attempt at dirty talk, I'd quit while you're not too far behind."

"Of course that wasn't my attempt. Not that it's something I'd have to _attempt_ , do I look like the kind of person who'd be bad at talking dirty?"

"Honestly?" said Josh. "Yes. You really do."

"That," said Sam, "Is an insult to my profession, to my proficiency, to Toby, to the President-- "

"Whoa, whoa, okay," said Josh. "I'm going to stop you there, first of all because you mentioned Toby again, and I'm really not on board with that. Actually I'm starting to get concerned about the frequency at which it's happening. And secondly because you actually made a valid point earlier about still being here when everyone comes in for work in the morning."

"I make a lot of valid points," said Sam.

"I know," said Josh. He darted his tongue out to wet his lips. "Why are we still talking?"

"You know, I'm not actually sure. I lost track of the point a while ago."

"Well, it was good of you to mention," said Josh, wedging a thigh up between Sam's and leaning in to kiss him.

Sam twisted closer against him, shoving his hands up under Josh's shirt. 

He was eager here like he was everywhere else, no less raw or idealistic, no less determined to please. It was strange and entirely not at the same time. Josh bit down sharply on the soft line curving inwards at the bottom of Sam's neck and pushed him back again so he was scrabbling for purchase on the smooth polished desk. 

"This is insanely cliché," said Josh, climbing over Sam. 

"Not to mention kind of dangerous and hugely impractical," said Sam.

"Hey, we're supposed to be on the same side here," said Josh. "Teamwork, remember?"

"Somehow I don't imagine the President would be quite so on board with this," said Sam.

"Oh come on, you saw him when the First Lady okayed him for sex," said Josh. 

"That's not entirely the same thing, and I'm pretty sure they didn't do it in the Oval Office, but okay," said Sam. "What did you mean, cliché?"

Josh pulled his lip between his teeth as he tugged at Sam's belt. "We're not even doing this the right way 'round," he said. 

"What?" said Sam a little vaguely, head tilted at what looked like an uncomfortable angle to the arch of his spine so he could watch Josh's hands. 

"The desk," said Josh, tugging the belt and Sam's fly open. 

"What, you think we should move the-- "

"Of course we shouldn't move the desk, we're just on it the wrong way," said Josh. "Sex makes you kind of stupid."

"What?" said Sam, arching his neck as Josh shoved a hand into his briefs. "Oh, _God_. And seriously, what did you mean, cliché?"

"Huh?" said Josh, biting at Sam's mouth and shifting his weight, pressing Sam hard against the desk. "Oh, uh, something about sex and politics, I don't know, you're the speechwriter."

"Uh," said Sam, fingers digging into Josh's back, "Bertrand Russell said that-- that no one is satisfied with the bare sexual act."

"That's not exactly what I meant," said Josh. 

"There's, uh, something in the Bible about-- all politics begins with and-- and derives from sex," said Sam.

"Yeah," said Josh. He twisted his hand. Sam gasped. "That's more like it."

"Yeah," said Sam on a breath. 

Josh dropped his head, breathing out against Sam's cheek. His shirt was untucked but still mostly buttoned. Sam wedged his hand between them to rectify that. 

"I hope this isn't an expensive shirt," he said, tugging at the buttons. "And I hope you realise what a sacrifice I'm making for this. My desk isn't exactly the most comfortable-- oh, oh, okay. Ow." He blinked down at Josh, now sprawled beneath him, a little closer to the edge of the desk. "You're kind of freakishly strong."

"Shut up," said Josh, tugging him down. "Seriously, do you complain this much to Toby?"

"No," said Sam. "I never complain to Toby. I make coherent and well-communicated arguments, but I never complain. He makes me nervous."

"Then what-- "

"You don't make me nervous," said Sam, like it was obvious. Which, well. 

He leaned back to flick open Josh's shirt quickly and efficiently. "I'm disappointed I've lost that power," said Josh.

"You never had that power," said Sam, ducking to press his mouth, open and wet, to Josh's throat. 

"So you say," said Josh, arching his neck.

Sam worked his mouth over Josh's chest, dipping his tongue into the hollow of his throat, down over the barely-there ridges of his sternum, scraping his teeth over the scars. 

"Sam-- " said Josh, strangled. 

"Shut up," said Sam, lifting a hand to follow the wet trail of his tongue over the raised white lines.

"Yeah," said Josh, breathing out. "Why am I letting you do this here?"

Sam leaned back, eyebrows raised. "This was your idea," he said. "You can't try to palm this off on me as well."

"Okay," said Josh. "Unless we get caught."

"I'm pretty sure that will be the least of our worries if we get caught," said Sam. He tilted his head. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to blow you."

"I-- think my input on that may be a little biased," said Josh. He raised his eyebrows. 

"I could blow you," said Sam. 

"So you said."

"I'm just reiterating-- "

"-- Sam-- "

"Yeah, I'm going to blow you."

Josh huffed a laugh. "I see the dirty talk has finally made an appearance. Although for a speechwriter it's pretty repetitive and one-layered."

"Which is politician-speak for boring," said Sam. "Thanks."

"Well, if-- oh, _God_ , okay." Josh stopped talking as Sam swallowed him down. 

Sam sucked cock messy, always trying to take in a little too much. It was wet and warm and a hurricane of suction and movement. More enthusiasm than technique, but it took both kinds, and really, these days, Josh leaned towards enthusiasm in most things anyway. He had one arm hooked under Josh's knee, holding him steady. 

His hair was just long enough now for Josh to hold onto properly, not too tight but enough that Sam could feel it. 

Josh said, "God, _God_ ," moaning and arching his neck back. 

Sam hummed around his cock. 

"You're really good at not talking," said Josh, mostly in the hope that it would make Sam laugh. It did, and it felt fucking _amazing_. 

It wasn't long before Josh's hips were twitching uncontrollably and he was slinging an arm across his face to muffle the noises he couldn't help in effort to prevent the Secret Service coming crashing in. This whole thing seemed more of a spectacularly terrible idea in this moment than any other, but as luck would have it, it was also probably the moment Josh cared least. He came with his palm curved over the back of Sam's skull and his own skin between his teeth, the edge of Sam's desk digging into his shoulder blades. 

When he looked down Sam was wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He quirked a grin, a quick flash of teeth, and climbed up to settle on his back beside Josh.

"You're okay with this, right?" said Josh after a silence.

Sam blinked. "Okay with what?" he said. 

"This." Josh waved a hand. 

"Sex in my office? I don't think it's something we should make a habit of, but yeah, I'm okay with it."

"Sam," said Josh. 

"I'm okay with it, Josh," said Sam quietly. 

"If-- "

"-- Josh-- "

"I'm just saying, if-- "

"You're really picking up too many habits from Donna," said Sam. 

"Okay, okay." Josh sighed. After a silence, he added, "You probably wanna get off."

"I'd considered it," said Sam. 

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop," said Josh, turning to lean on one elbow over Sam. He reached down with his free hand to scrape his nails over the soft skin low on his belly. 

Sam shrugged. "It's only fair," he said, and, "Ah, okay, Jesus," when Josh curled a hand around his cock. 

Josh didn't kiss him. He watched Sam's face with his lip between his teeth; Sam's closed eyes and open mouth, the damp hair stuck to his forehead. He leaned in to bite at Sam's jaw when Sam was close and said, "Yeah," when he came, stroking him through it, finally stretching to kiss the slow post-orgasm lull settling about Sam's mouth. 

When his arm started to ache and Sam's hand in his hair started to loosen he settled onto his back beside Sam, shoulders brushing. 

"So," said Sam eventually. "Am I better than Mandy?" 

"What-- why would you ask me that?" said Josh.

Sam shrugged. "You two worked together. I assume you had sex at work."

"You assume we had sex at work," echoed Josh.

"Yeah," said Sam.

Josh shot him a look. "Am I better than Laurie?"

"You're a guy," said Sam. "That's like comparing-- census sampling versus head counts."

Josh sat up on his elbows. "What?" he said.

"Same general vicinity, completely different method and outcome," said Sam. 

Josh lay back again. "Am I the sampling or the head count in this scenario?"

"That's not really a fair question on my part. Or a smart one on yours."

"Seriously?" said Josh to the ceiling.

"If I want to keep getting laid, obviously I'm going to have to say sampling--" 

"-- Okay, you're serious-- "

"-- Which you know and which you know I know, so the question and therefore the response is intrinsically flawed and totally unreliable."

"You could've just said sampling," said Josh. 

"I know," said Sam. "Okay. Sampling."

"Yeah, the moment's gone," said Josh.

He reached to grab a box of tissues, wiping himself off and then handing them to Sam.

"You wanna come back to my place?" he asked, sitting up to start buttoning his shirt. 

"We've probably taken enough risks for one night," said Sam. He stood, buckling his belt and reaching to pick up his shirt. 

"Sam-- "

"I'm not sleeping great, anyway," said Sam. "I'll keep you up."

"Why aren't you sleeping great?" said Josh. He tucked his shirt into his trousers. 

Sam shrugged. "State of the Union's coming up. It's kind of a big deal."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't be-- "

"-- It's a stressful time, it's a perfectly valid reason-- "

"We need you on your best game, Sam," said Josh.

"So what, you want to supervise me not sleeping?" Sam put his hands on his hips, challenging. 

"I think you sleep better at my place," said Josh. "If worse comes to worst I'll talk about public finance management and bore you to sleep."

Sam quirked a smile and shook his head. His hair brushed loose over his forehead. "Fine," he said. 

"Good," said Josh. "Uh. In the meantime you might wanna put your shirt on."

 

**vi.**

"Josh."

Josh looked up at Toby. "Yeah?"

"Fix it."

"What?" Josh blinked. Toby didn't.

"Sam. Fix it," he said again. 

"Toby, I'm not-- "

"Do I look like I'm the person to fix this? Is that really the air I'm giving off here?"

"Fine," said Josh. Toby turned to leave. "You're helping!"

"Yeah, yeah." Toby waved a hand over his head. 

"I was going to fix it anyway," said Josh to his empty office. Donna walked in a moment later with a stack of files. "I was going to fix it anyway," he told her.

"I know," she said defensively. 

Josh nodded. "Good."

*

"Don't you hate me a little?" said Josh when Toby got up to use the bathroom.

Sam blinked. "Why?"

Josh shrugged, toying with his glass. "I'm a hypocrite. Always have been. I'm cool with it. You're not. You don't have to be."

"You're not a hypocrite, Josh," said Sam.

Josh laughed. "Yeah," he said disbelievingly. 

"You're not," said Sam. "You just-- you hide it really well. You have to."

"That doesn't even make sense," said Josh, raising his eyebrows. He lifted his glass to his lips. 

"Yeah it does," said Sam. He swallowed a mouthful of his drink then added, "You realise your question was intrinsically-- "

"Oh, God," said Josh, groaning. 

"Seriously," said Sam. "You asked-- oh, hey, Toby."

Toby sunk into his chair. "Why aren't there more drinks?" he said.

"That is a really good question," said Josh, standing up to order some more. 

Sam leaned into his side later, considerably looser, more drunk. Toby was absorbed in his cigar and also possibly half-asleep. "You're not a hypocrite," he said. "Believe me. I know."

"Yeah," said Josh, breathing out. He thought about Sam's dad; he wanted to put his arm around Sam's shoulders.

Instead he bumped him gently and watched him fall asleep later, young and curled-up under his covers.

 

**vii.**

"Hi," said Josh when he opened his front door. He rubbed at his eyes and added, "It's three in the morning."

"I know," said Sam. 

"Good," said Josh. "I'm assuming no one's dead, since that makes more sense than the monumental screw-up of someone forgetting to tell me."

"Did I wake you?" said Sam, stepping inside. 

"No, Sam, it's three in the morning and I have to be at the White House in three hours, I don't know why you'd think I was sleeping," said Josh, yawning and closing the door. "What's up?"

"I just spoke with the President," said Sam.

"Yeah," said Josh. "You okay?"

"No," said Sam.

"You're mad," said Josh. 

"Yeah," said Sam. 

Josh nodded. "You wanna-- "

"You think it was okay for me to go blind while the rest of you were inside devising strategy and being part of the team and doing what we-- "

Sam stopped when Josh shoved him bodily back against the wall, mostly because Josh slapped a hand over his mouth. He blinked, eyes wide. 

"I know, Sam." Sam lifted a hand in protest. "I _know_. But it was never a question of not telling you. We needed your full attention on the Chicago thing. What's six hours, give or take?"

Sam opened his mouth behind Josh's hand. 

"Besides the principal," said Josh. He dropped his hand.

"I just don't appreciate my decisions being made for me through-- "

"Through what? Through lack of disclosure? By omission?" Josh shouted and stopped, breathing a little laboured, eyes on Sam. "You think that's how the public's going to see it?"

"Of course I think that's how the public is going to see it," said Sam. "Toby's right."

"Yeah," said Josh after a silence. 

Sam watched him for a long moment. "I'm not mad at you," he said at last. 

"Right," said Josh. 

"I'm-- I don't know what I am, actually."

"Yeah," said Josh. He let go of Sam, stepping away to sink onto the couch. "I knew you weren't mad at me."

Sam shot him a glance.

"You know how I know?" said Josh. "'Cause you had no reason to be mad at me."

Sam dropped onto the other end of the couch. "So why'd you let me-- "

"Because I don't know what I am either," said Josh. 

"Feel better?" said Sam.

"No," said Josh. 

Sam huffed a humourless laugh. "And I was worried I'd offended the Caucus," he said. "Hey, do you think if I broke privilege now it would really matter?"

"What?" said Josh. 

"Nothing." Sam sighed. 

"Did something happen?" Josh narrowed his eyes. 

"No," said Sam. "Well, yeah. But it's fine."

"Great," said Josh. 

Sam nodded, gaze fixed absently on the blank TV. "You know, I think it's not actually that I don't know what I am, so much as I don't want to admit that I'm kind of scared."

"By which you mean-- "

"Monumentally terrified," said Sam matter-of-factly.

"We're gonna have to figure out how to handle this," said Josh. "Fast."

"Yeah," said Sam.

"You're gonna have to talk to Babish," said Josh. 

"Yeah," said Sam. 

"He's gonna piss you off."

"Yeah," said Sam. 

"Probably more because you're a lawyer and you're kind of superior about it and he's gonna-- "

"I'm not superior," said Sam.

"You kind of are," said Josh. "A little."

"Well, so are you," said Sam.

"I know," said Josh. "I never said it wasn't for good reason."

"You know what?" said Sam. "I'm fine."

"I never said you weren't, either," said Josh. 

"Good," said Sam. "So we don't have to talk about it."

"Okay," said Josh. 

"We're going to spend all day talking about it starting three hours from now," said Sam.

"Probably," said Josh.

"So we should not talk about it for three hours," said Sam. 

"Okay," said Josh again. 

"Okay," said Sam. 

*

"Did you know there was a speech prepared for President Nixon to read in case the moon landing went wrong?" 

"No," said Josh. 

"It's a really good speech," said Sam. "Evocative. Poignant. Heroic without pandering."

"You planning a speech in case something goes wrong?" said Josh.

"Of course not," said Sam. "It's just interesting, how things would look if they'd happened differently. How they would have just-- been left up there."

"Sounds kinda creepy," said Josh. 

"It is a little," said Sam. "It's. Yeah."

Josh said nothing. 

"It's harder writing about things people won't be happy about. Like the quality has to be higher because the news is bad. People will forgive anything else as long as they ultimately get what they want, but trying to make them feel good about hearing-- " He trailed off. 

"Sam," said Josh. 

"Yeah," said Sam. 

"Try not to get quite as cynical and superstitious as Toby, would you? At least not to the point you're writing pre-emptive concession speeches. It's not election day. No one's voting yet. And this isn't the moon landing."

"No, the President just lied to the country about his incurable illness."

"When you say that you make it sound like it not being nineteen sixty-nine is a bad thing."

Sam shrugged. "Well, they made it back."

"Yeah," said Josh.

"Yeah," echoed Sam. He breathed out. "Yeah, okay."

"You see how I turned that around on you there?"

"Yeah," said Sam. He quirked a half smile. 

"I'm the master," said Josh. 

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You're certainly something," he said. 

"C'mere," said Josh. 

 

**viii.**

When Josh opened his door not a week later he felt kind of delirious; something exhilarated and terrified and wonderfully, blissfully familiar. 

The stinging in his eyes told him he was ridiculously tired but sleep felt laughably far off. 

"Hi," said Sam. His tie was thrown over his shoulder and his shirt was sticking to his skin. His hair was dripping into his eyes. Josh watched him scrub a hand through it absently. 

He looked kind of crazy; kind of beautiful. 

"Hi," said Josh. 

"I couldn't sleep," said Sam. 

"Yeah," said Josh. 

Sam nodded. He watched Josh for a moment and then said, "We're going to do this," quietly, a little reverent, almost lost under the beating of rain on the roof. 

Josh felt the smile stretching his face. "No, we're going to kick some Washington _ass!_ " he shouted loud enough for the neighbours and hopefully everyone in D.C. to hear.

Sam bit down on his lip and then grinned, crowding Josh back into his apartment, cold wet clothes and hot skin and a whole lot of promise.


End file.
